


“they’re just dreams,”

by Otteration



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Papyrus mentioned, Reader Is Not Frisk, Sad Sans, im sorry, reader is female
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 15:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17206157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otteration/pseuds/Otteration
Summary: Sans can’t sleep. It’s not uncommon for him to lose a few hours a night.It is uncommon, however, to have some help when his hope seems lost.





	“they’re just dreams,”

**Author's Note:**

> I have been nothing but headaches and sadness for a few days now and I have no idea why. I keep waking up at around 3 am feeling garbage about myself. So, I wrote this thing since I can’t seem to focus on my other fic atm. 
> 
> Where’s napstablook when you need him?

There was an empty feeling. It resigned deep in his chest, buzzing with a numbness only felt by bee stings. As he sat with his back against the headboard, hoodie pulled up over his skull, and eyes lidded and baggy, his mind wandered. 

 

An endless stream of regret and remorse flooded out his awareness. Images flashed in front of his eyes like an onslaught of camera lights. Some were coated in a crimson hue, others were stained with yellow afterburn. However, they all sang a haunting lullaby; torturing his heavy mind with even heavier thoughts. Each weighing down his bones until he was sure he was molding within his mattress. 

 

His eyes stayed staring ahead, dead and cold. Once beaming pricks of light, now sat dull, sunken ones; only strong enough to light up his bed and nothing beyond.

 

He was on an island. One of dirty white sheets and flat pillows. The room around him was a void of endless fear. Only, he was far too tired to fight it off. Instead, as a translucent image appeared in front of him, his body remained still. If someone were to walk in and see this sad excuse of a man, they would have to assume he was dead. 

 

The image began manifesting into something more concrete. It formed and shaped itself in a black rectangle no bigger than a keyboard. An orange border enclosed an orange word. 

 

“ _ R E S E T” _

 

To Sans’ horror, he was almost tempted to touch it. To bring this world down along with his haunting memories. 

 

At 4 am, he was almost tempted to do anything. As long as it would cease this buzzing in his head. Cease these sounds of white noise and utter selfishness. His breathing hitched as he saw a figure behind the button. 

 

It was saying something. 

 

Something he couldn’t quite hear over the noise. He wanted to react, but it was as if all his hope had been drained from his body. His soul ached so horribly he wanted to tear it out and dust himself right then and there. 

 

A hand was drawing closer to him, reaching for him. No reaction. 

 

Until, suddenly, a face became clear. With a jolt of shock as well as embarrassment, the skeleton realized who stood in front of him. 

 

It was you. 

 

He let out a shaky breath he just now realized he was holding. His bones rattled softly. 

 

“Sans? Please? Talk to me…” his soul nearly shattered at the sound of your voice. In desperation, Sans fell to your hand, letting it caress his cheek. He pressed his face into the feeling. 

 

He felt the weight of his bed shift as you climbed onto the mattress. A soft squeak of old springs echoed throughout the dark room. You were sitting in front of him now, and he could finally see your worried expression. 

 

Your brows furrowed together so tightly he thought your whole face would follow suit. A deep ocean of sadness stirred in your eyes as they darted around to find eye contact. Your hands were shaky. Your smile was tugged into a soft frown. With another breathless whisper, you said his name. 

 

“Sans… what’s wrong?” 

 

He felt tears fall then, and against his will, his body collapsed into your own. His bony arms wrapped around your middle and his head landed in your lap. He was curled in on himself, crying into you. He felt a soft hand lift his hood from his head and begin drawing swirls with its fingertips on top of his skull. 

 

He listened to your breathing and tried his best to match it through troubled sobs. It was proving difficult as he let out a choke. 

 

“Hey… come on now, deep breathes,” you rested your hand flat against his head now and breathed in heavily. Sans tried to follow. 

 

_ In _

 

_ Out _

 

He shook violently. 

 

_ In  _

 

_ Out _

 

His arms squeezed tighter around your midsection. 

 

_ In _

 

_ Out _

 

He shut his eyes like trapdoors. 

 

_ In  _

 

_ Out  _

 

His chest was getting lighter. 

 

_ In _

 

_ And out  _

 

His head was burning, but at least he could breathe. 

 

“Can you look at me?” You whispered encouragingly. Sans shifted reluctantly and sat up to face you. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes, though. “Well, that’s a start.” He could hear the smile in your voice. Then, he felt arms wrap over his shoulders and rest on his aching back. Your forehead rested against his. 

 

He lifted weak hands and gripped your arms softly, although still as if they were a lifeline. He didn’t want to hurt you. You both stayed like that for a minute, simply breathing in each others presence. Sans was beginning to feel calm. 

 

The warmth of your body was giving rest to his tired bones. Your soft smile was filling him with pleasantness. He felt safe. 

 

“im sorry,” he whispered. His voice was tougher than he thought it would be. You removed your forehead from his and looked into his eyes. Your hands rested on his shoulders now. 

 

“Don’t you be sorry for anything, Sans.” The skeleton’s face fell. The pile of dirty clothes to his right seemed far too interesting. You moved your head so he was forced to look at you again. “I mean it. You have  _ nothing _ to apologize for.” He felt a faint slice against his rib cage. It strung for only a moment, but Sans flinched nonetheless. “Are you hurt?” You quickly looked him up and down, your hands hovering over his shaky frame. 

 

“n-no…” he whispered softly. His cheeks were like stained clay. Streaks of old tears fell down them. They looked like cracks in pottery. 

 

“Are you sure?” You weren’t sure why you asked a second time, but even still, Sans broke down again. 

 

“n-no…” his eyes flooded with salt water and the dam he held it at bay broke into a million pieces. He fell into you once more, only this time you weren’t prepared for it. Sans’ weight pushed you gently down until you lay looking at the ceiling. His head was buried into you and you could feel his cold tears through your shirt. His hands gripped at the fabric with an intense fear you hadn’t seen from him before. 

 

Your heart was breaking. Your arms wrapped around him and held him close. The ceiling shimmered with the image of early morning flowers. 

 

You quietly hummed. The skeleton laying on top of you found comfort in the soft vibrations; and as he heaved out more choked sobs, you closed your eyes. 

 

“I want to help, Sans.” You whispered into the dark room. His grip on you tightened for just a moment. 

 

“i-i don’t know-“ he cried. Taking in breaths when desperate. “i really don’t, im so sorry.” 

 

“I told you. Don’t apologize.” With a soft smile you hugged his head. “Silly skeleton…” you felt the need to kiss his skull, but decided against it. “It’s okay.” 

 

Sans felt a tug on his soul. Like it was being forced out of him. He sucked in a breath. More images played in front of his eyes. The glimmer of a knife. A torn red scarf. Glowing red eyes. A child’s laughter. Stained glass. Dust. Blood. So much blood. 

 

“he can’t be dead…” the skeleton whispered to nobody in particular. Your face became puzzled. 

 

“Who?” 

 

“p-pa-“ he couldn’t say it. It felt too real to say it. You were growing even more worried. 

 

“Who, Sans?” You craned your neck to look down at the skeleton. He looked awful still. 

 

“pap!” Sans nearly screamed the name and a whole other flood poured from his eye sockets. 

 

“He’s not dead, Sans…” you sat up so his head was in your lap once more. You stroked his skull lovingly. “He’s right down the hall where we left him last night. He’s dreaming of spaghetti and you.” Sans whimpered. “You know that.” 

 

“b-but, he was,” Sans sat up straight to look at you. Blue tears still streamed down his broken pottery cheeks. “and what’s stoppin’ it from happening again? what if-“ he paused and looked down at his hands. They were stained crimson. “what if the kid decides this isn’t good enough anymore?” 

 

You weren’t sure what he was talking about, but the way his voice trembled left him so utterly helpless. 

 

“what if, despite all of this…” he gestures around the room. He gestures at you. “what if our happiness doesn’t matter?” 

 

“What’re you talking about, Sans?” You cupped his cheeks and searched for an explanation in his eyes. There wasn’t one. 

 

“i don’t know what i’d do if this all went away again…” 

 

“Again?” 

 

Sans smiled just a little bit. It didn’t last long. 

 

“nevermind,” 

 

He looked at you fondly despite his devastated appearance. 

 

“i don’t want you to worry, okay? it can’t be fixed so…” 

 

Was it rude of you to be getting frustrated? He was being so vague. You wanted to help him so badly, but how could you if you didn’t know what was going on? 

 

“Can’t I try?” 

 

“no you don’t get it, kid, listen-“ his voice raised slightly. He was getting frustrated too it seemed. “i appreciate your concern. really… i do…” he rested his hand on your own and stared at their contact for a moment. “but some things can’t be helped.” 

 

“But why?” 

 

Sans sighed. He knew you didn’t like not knowing. Especially when it came to him. 

 

“they’re just dreams.” He didn’t want to lie, but it was better that he did. The weight of the simple knowledge of resets was one he didn’t want to pass onto you. Hell, the knowledge of resets wasn’t simple. The never ending sleepless nights seemed to prove that. “they’ll go away.” 

 

“I can sleep with you if you want. To make sure you have someone if something like that happens again?” You could tell he wasn’t saying the full truth, but at this point it seemed pointless to try and pry it out of him. He wasn’t even asleep when you came in. At least, it didn’t seem like it. The way he stared off into oblivion was scary. An ominous sense of dread had washed over you the second you’d walked into his room. It was so quiet. 

 

“no, that’s okay. i-i have paps,” 

 

You wrapped him in a hug. He stiffened. 

 

“But you have me too.” 

 

You were right. He did have you, but he was torn between burdening you with his problems, and keeping papyrus wrapped up in all of it. He didn’t want either of you to suffer because of him. 

 

But you were so warm… 

 

Sans’ body finally relaxed and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His breath tickled against your skin. 

 

“i guess.” You pulled away from him much too soon and Sans immediately wanted to crawl back to that warmth. He watched with a worried expression as you crawled off the bed and stood on the cold floor. Had he said something wrong? Why were you leaving? It was his fault, wasn’t it? You noticed the pull of his brow bone. 

 

“Hey, I’m just gonna go grab some more blankets. I’ll be right back bonehead.” You let out a soft chuckle and walked out the door, leaving Sans in the dark. He was scared for a moment before reassuring himself you’d be back. Still, he couldn’t ignore the floating reset button in the corner of his room. He shut his eyes, and reopened them. It was still there. 

 

It wouldn’t go away. 

 

“go away.” He whispered into the dark. “i don’t want it!” He felt his soul pulse with anxiety. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead and his breath quickened in pace. The button taunted him. It flickered a soft yellow as it seemingly grew closer and closer. His hands were shaking.The lights of his eyes were shrinking… shrinking… shrinking… “i don’t want her to go!” 

 

“Sans?” 

 

The skeleton turned quickly to his door. You stood confused, with three more blankets in your arms. At the sight of his heaving chest and black eye sockets, you rushed back to his side. 

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry are you okay? I shouldn’t have left you I’m sorry…” you were touching his face and his shoulders and where his heart would be and he was breathless. His eyes flickered back to life and he stared at you. Panic and concern was drenching your face. He felt so awful for making  _ you _ feel so awful. 

 

“im sorry…” 

 

“What did I tell you about apologizing?” You huffed. He felt so small; but he watched as you climbed back into his bed. You began fluffing his pillows and spreading out blankets. You slipped under the covers and motioned to him. “Stop it. And come over here.” You lay your head down and he crawled over to you, squishing his way into the sheets. 

 

So warm… 

 

Sans hummed and pressed himself closer to you. His skull rested above your head and you rested a hand on his chest. His arms held you tightly. 

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“mhm,” he mumbled plainly. You sighed and closed your eyes. Sans, however, locked his on the ceiling. He wished he could see the stars right about now. 

 

“For the record-“ you shifted to look up at the skeleton. 

 

“yeah?” He looked back. His eye lights scanning you. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

Sans’ cheeks dusted a blue cyan and he smiled. Pulling you even closer despite the seemingly nonexistent distance. 

 

“s’good…” 

 

He closed his eyes as well this time; and you both breathed in each other’s ambience. Sans’ soul sang happily in his chest and he swore for a moment he could feel yours in rhythm. 

 

He glanced in the corner of his room to find the reset button had dissipated. 

 

“so warm…” he whispered, and drifted off to sleep.  

 

He didn’t have a nightmare that night. 

 

Or the one after. 

 

Or the one after that. 

 

But he had you. 

 


End file.
